


Case 155: The Adventure Of The Back-Up Copies (1898)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [200]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anglo-Saxon, Cock Rings, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, Divorce, Documentation, F/M, Framing Story, Gay Sex, Johnlock - Freeform, Justice, London, M/M, Napping, Pie, Teasing, Theft, Trains, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-18 20:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17587949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Truth will out even after more than a millennium, as a discovery leads to a theft, a shooting and an investigation that shows people have pretty much always been.. people.Mentioned also as the case of the early English charters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tweeks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tweeks/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

This strange little adventure led to a 'crime' that had taken place over a thousand years ago, and yet for which the cover-up was decidedly modern. And John got to experience something historical which he nearly always enjoys. 

Nearly always. His eyes were definitely watering after his last 'Roman history lesson' with me.

It was a few days after Guy Fawkes' Night when a very well-wrapped box arrived in the post for me. In spite of the fact that I recognized the postmark – Thelston St. George in Gloucestershire – I was still wary. I might be well-connected enough in this city to make most people know that trying to harm either myself or John would lead to a close encounter between themselves and the Thames river-bed soon after, but one could never underestimate the stupidity or malignancy of some people. I opened the box with gloves then sighed when I realized that the contents were harmless.

“it is from Lord Hardham who I helped out over his wife's scandalous behaviour with Mr. Abbott”, I said. “You remember, the Browns Hotel Case. He knows of my interest in early English charters and has sent me one of a set of four such that he has acquired recently to see what I think of it.”

(The then Lady Cressida Hardham, some fifteen years younger than her husband, had eloped with a City banker and an ancient Anglo-Saxon jewel that was worth thousands of pounds. It had been a simple enough affair in that I had been able to track her down although I had had rather more pains when it came to retrieving the jewel. It said something that the banker in question was now back in his old post, his colleagues at Lloyd's Bank seemingly uncaring about his slapdash approach to other gentlemen's wives; I was glad that I myself did not bank with them. The faithless hussy had fled abroad to avoid her debts after the divorce).

John smiled at my keenness over my new acquisition. I had never been that interested in history but he had managed to convert me, mainly by having me fuck him while he tried to instil historical knowledge into me, and I tried to distract him by instilling myself down onto his cock as hard as I could. I smiled at the memory.

“I could always read this later”, I said. “And you do not have any patients today.”

His eyes widened at my words but he smiled and walked over to our room. Walked as in sprinted.

֍

A few days later I had finished my book and was musing over its contents.

“Was it interesting?” John asked. He was at the table eating my slice of pie as well as his own and looking like all his Christmases had come at one. And if he carried on looking so utterly edible, Christmas would not be the only thing that was coming!

He caught me looking at him and blushed prettily. _That_ did not help either!

“It appears to be the Dark Ages equivalent of a back-up copy”, I said, reluctantly shelving my lustful thoughts for the time being. “All very strange.”

“Why?” he asked curiously, finishing the last of his pie and predictably doing his routine of staring mournfully into the empty bowl as if that might make it somehow reappear again. “I suppose things went missing in those days as well and there were always going to be people trying to fiddle things to their advantage.”

I really wished he had not said about 'fiddling things'. My good intentions promptly keeled over and died right there. He sighed at me.

 _”Again?”_ he said in a mock put-upon tone. “I suppose that I shall just have to lie back and think of England.”

“I do not intend to leave you in any state where you can think anything!” I growled.

He yipped happily and raced to our bedroom. I decided that my early English charters could wait a while longer.

֍

It was some little time later and we were lying together in what was most definitely a manly embrace. Not the other thing that started with the third letter of the alphabet and rhymed with huddling. Perish the thought!

“Those charters were all about grants made during the reign of King Alfred the Great”, I said. “Tell me about him again.”

John sighed heavily.

“I went through that with you before”, he said pointedly.

“Yes, but I was busy going through _you_ at the time so my attention may not have been quite what it should have been!” I grinned. “The book Lord Carmichael sent me was a copy of a series of charters all made in or just after the year 878. The one odd thing I did note was that they were all in the first year or two; King Alfred seemed to have been very busy just then.”

“He should not have been _that_ busy”, John said. “That was the year in which the Viking Great Army invaded and he lost his throne for a few months, having to hide out on the Isle of Athelney. While there he was asked by a shepherdess' wife who did not know who he was to mind some cakes on a griddle, and he let them burn in his distractedness. She came back and set about beating him for that, until her poor husband came home and nearly had a fit!”

“'Apologies your majesty for my wife beating you up like that'!” I grinned.

“He managed to get an army together for an attack on Chippenham where the Great Army was based”, John said. “The Vikings did not like fighting in towns so they met him at Edington some way south. He won a great victory and Wessex was saved; his son, daughter and grandson went on to turn it into England.”

I thought about that for a moment as we cu.... held each other.

“That does not make sense”, I said at last. “Why would he be making a whole lot of land grants when the country was recovering from such an ordeal? For one thing, what about the people who had owned them before? And for every recipient there were bound to be two or three somewhere who doubtless felt they deserved either that land or equal rewards. That is the way of any court.”

“Maybe you can find out who done it a thousand years ago?” John said. “Nap time.”

He pulled me close and was under in seconds. I should have devoted some time to the problem at hand but.... no.

֍

Two days later the matter concerning the strange book of charters took a new twist. I stared in surprise at the telegram that had just arrived at Baker Street.

“Lord Hardham asks that we come down to Thelston Hall as a matter of urgency”, I said. “Someone broke into his house last night and attempted to steal his other three charter books.”

John frowned at that.

“If they only _attempted_ to take them, then how does he know that they were the target?” he asked reasonably.

“That I do not know”, I said. “But if we go down to rural south Gloucestershire perhaps we may find out. And just think of that first-class carriage all the way there and back!”

I really should not have enjoyed making him breathe faster like that. Really. Oh well.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

Thelston lay on the main line between London and Bristol but we had to effect a change to a slower train at Chippenham as our destination was little more than a village. Although with the effect railways sometimes had on places, who knew how long that would last? It was John told me an ancient place indeed; King Alfred's elder brother and predecessor King Aethelred the First had been a major landowner here hence the name, which had been corrupted from Aethelton (town of the princes). He may have told me more but as I had been intent on trying to fuck his brains out at the time I had most likely missed it. Never mind; we could always go back over it again. And again. And again.

I tried to avoid looking smug as I had to help someone off the train at Thelston Station and at the fact that he was whimpering at every step. He glared at me when, our having crossed the footbridge which had only further augmented his agonies I dryly remarked that we could have used the level-crossing, but I treated him to a coffee and a pastry in the station restaurant so I was forgiven. Although I knew that he was still watching me for any signs of smirking!

Thelston Hall lay what was for John a painful cab ride a little way north of the village, a pleasant stone building set some way back from the road. Lord Carmichael Hardham was a pleasant blond gentleman in his early forties; he greeted us affably and took us into his study.

“I am sure that your first question, Mr. Holmes, will be as to how I knew the charter books were the target of this attack?”

“We had wondered”, I smiled.

“It was exceedingly fortunate”, he said. “I kept the books in my study planning to read them later as I was expecting my son and heir to come over. Michael – he bears the same name as I but we call him that to avoid confusion – is I am afraid something of a scatterbrain and shortly after dinner I received a message from his good lady wife that he had only just remembered. As it was already dark I sent back for them not to come over, fetched the books from the study and went to read them in the library.”

“Why did you not read them in your study?” John asked.

“The library is much warmer in winter”, he said, “and Cressida had the study repainted before she, er, left.”

“Let us move on”, I said swiftly. “What happened next?”

“I should have said that in the study I have a small rotating bookshelf which stands on the desk”, he said. “The books had been in there. About an hour or so after I had been in the library I heard the sound of breaking glass from somewhere. I hurried out and met Carter, my second son as you know, coming out from the smoking-room. He said that he thought the noise had come from my study which is next door but one to there, so we went in. Someone had smashed the glass in the French windows and made off with my small bookshelf. There were only a few books on it but some of them were quite similar to the charter books that had been there but a few hours before.”

I frowned. I could see at least two problems with this straight away and there would likely be more later.

“My lord”, I said. “I must ask you some questions about this matter. Some you may think strange but I have my reasons for all of them. Please answer to the best of your ability.”

“Of course”, he said.

“Were the books insured?”

“No”, he said. “They had not been verified as yet; there are as you know a lot of forgeries around given the current interest in Anglo-Saxon history. I thought that I would send one to you and collect it when I brought the others to London where I could ask someone at the British Museum to look at them.”

I took a deep breath. This next question was important.

“Did you tell anyone that you had sent me one of the four books?”

“Given the way people that behave over such things I kept everything to myself”, the nobleman said firmly. “I purchased the books from a fellow member of the nobility; the sum I gave him judged the books as forgeries but we agreed, and I shall of course honour that agreement, that I shall pay him a considerable extra sum if the books are genuine.”

“You would rather not tell us the name of the seller?”

“If it can be avoided I would rather not”, he said. “He is a good fellow who has fallen on hard times due to circumstances beyond his control, and even with what I have paid him he should be able to live his life adequately if not in luxury.”

“Tell me about your sons, please.”

That clearly did surprise the nobleman. He thought for a moment.

“Michael is a good lad, honest enough and looks every inch the English lord but sadly what the Good Lord gave in decency and appearance he then more than took back in brains. The boy is a total feather-head! I cannot tell you how relieved I was when he took up with and married Felicity, Mr. Kendall's youngest. She will keep him right and even better, she has already given him and me twin boys so the line is secure.”

“Carter, my other boy is the other reason that I am glad for Felicity having secured the line. I am sure that if he could he would sell the whole estate and then treat himself to as many days at the races as he could get out of it. He has not married yet which I suppose shows good taste on behalf of the local female population, and spends much of his existence bemoaning the size of his allowance. Which I am sure Felicity will order Michael to trim once I am gone; she will make an excellent Lady of the Manor. I also as I am sure you know have three daughters but they are all married and live elsewhere in England.”

“I more than most can appreciate that families are difficult things”, I said, not missing John's smile at my words. “So not even your sons knew that you had sent one charter to me?”

“They did not”, the nobleman said. “Both boys knew the charters were here of course, as did Lord Bradwold. Unfortunately in his case.”

“Who is Lord Bradwold?” I asked. Our host frowned.

“Tarquin; he inherited from his late father three years ago”, Lord Hardham said. “He is the second-largest landowner in the village; he used to be the largest but he backed the king in the English Civil War while my ancestors backed parliament. This was a royalist area for much of the war but we came out on top, and as you may know King Charles the Second decided upon his restoration not to overturn what had happened before. I can safely say that two hundred and fifty years on the Bradwolds still resent us!”

“Old resentments die hard”, I agreed. “There is one other question I would like to ask before we examine your study, sir. How far back do both your own and the Bradwold families go in this area?”

“That is yet another source of friction”, the nobleman said. “My ancestors came over with William the Conqueror and seized the lands from the Bradwolds at the time, although they got some of them back through a later marriage. They claim descent from one Aethelwold who was Thane of Cricklade and a chief adviser to Alfred the Great. His brother was Aethelric, one time the Bishop of Malmesbury.”

I began to see the light.

“Most interesting”, I said. “The doctor has been working hard – very hard – to inculcate some interest in history from me, and I begin to see where he is aiming the thrusts of his argument. We will go and look at your study for a while, then I think I have an idea as to how this problem might be resolved.”

֍

“That was just _evil!_ ” John hissed once we were alone in the study. “Saying 'hard' and 'thrusts' like that I front of an English country gentleman!”

“But you did _arouse_ some interest in history for me!” I grinned.

“Stop it!!

I smiled but let him be, for now at least. I looked around the study and in particular at the French windows. Much as I had thought. 

“What did you expect to find in here?” John asked. “Footprints?”

“I am sure that there is a most obliging trail of footprints outside if we were to go out with a light and look for it”, I said. “But as it is raining heavily I rather think I shall decline.”

“How can you know there are prints out there?” John demanded.

“Because this whole thing had to have been an inside job”, I said. “The main problem will be finding out who the mole in the house is.”

“The mole?”

He looked totally confused. I gestured for him to take a seat.

“It is a pity that the embarrassment that this case will likely end in will preclude it being published any time soon”, he said. “Especially as the original crime that caused it happened over a thousand years ago.”

He now looked even more confused. I reminded myself that now was neither the time nor the place. But there was still the train home.

“Lord Hardham confirmed my suspicions when he mentioned the names of two of his local rival's Anglo-Saxon ancestors”, I said. “They were mentioned many times in the book of charters that he sent me – _but never as recipients, only as the last owner_. Something had happened to make the king dispossess both men utterly and entirely.”

“Why would he do that?” John asked.

“It seemed impossible, especially given that the country had only narrowly recovered from being overrun and might – indeed would – face future similar threats”, I said. “Then I remembered my knowledge of local geography, and saw something in the history books that did not make sense. Remember, you told me that the Vikings were at Gloucester but made a surprise Twelfth Night attack on Chippenham and nearly caught their prey. Alfred escaped just in time.”

“Yes”, he said. “So?”

“Gloucester and Chippenham are over forty miles from each other”, I said. “I know that they cleebrated all twelve days of Christmas back then and that there may not have been many people out on the roads on a cold January day, but surely with the war still ongoing the King of Wessex would have posted men in place around the north of Chippenham? He knew only too well how fast the Vikings could move when needed, yet we are told by the history books that he was caught off guard.”

He just stared at me.

“It is like that dreadful Sir Isaac Boughton”, I said, “who always told the truth but never the whole truth. It was so much easier back then. I think that Mr. Bradwold's ancestors were the 'cuckoos in the nest' as they say, and they made sure that the lookouts looked the other way or were simply not sent out. After the battle of Edington the restored king did not want to restart his reign with a bloodbath, so he quietly disinherited the traitors and sent them packing. Given the paucity of record-keeping at the time the cover-up was highly effective.”

“Until the great Sherlock Holmes came along and revealed all!” he said.

“True”, I sighed. “I am indeed great. As you will be experiencing all the way back to London Town!”

He rolled his eyes at that, but there was definitely a shudder in there too.

“But what did you mean about the mole in the house?” he asked. 

“Somehow the Bradwolds became aware of the existence of the charters”, I said, “and sought to buy them. Imagine their horror when their deadliest rival gets hold of something which, when verified, would show their noble Anglo-Saxon ancestors to be nothing more than a bunch of traitors. The charters had to be destroyed!”

“One only has to look at the French windows to see that they could all too easily be forced open from the outside without going to the extent of smashing a pane in them. That was done for one reason and one reason alone; to draw attention to the fact that the thief was an outsider. I am sure that the person who stole the bookshelf on which the charters had been earlier dashed out of the windows and round to the smoking-room.”

John's face fell.

“Lord Hardham's son Carter?” he said.

“Either him or an associate”, I said. “The important thing is that he is in on it – and that is where we will have him!”

֍


	3. Chapter 3

I told Lord Hardham to lock the remaining charters in his safe for the night and we went to bed. It was depressing not being able to have John with me, but one never knew with private houses.

After what had been a restless night for both of us we met Lord Hardham and his younger son at breakfast.

“I have been thinking”, I said, “and I think the best thing to do is to get those charters looked at immediately.”

“You wish to take them to London with you?” the nobleman asked. 

“I rather think that the one you sent me and that I have in London will suffice”, I said airily.

Mr. Carter Hardham spluttered into his breakfast.

“Sorry”, he said shame-facedly. “Went down the wrong way.”

“Fortunately I have a useful contact at the British Museum from a case some years back”, I said suppressing a smile. “I would take it round there immediately on my return but I happen to know that although they are away for a week visiting a sick relative in Essex, they will be back early tomorrow. I shall go round then and ask them to look at it. In the meantime I must insist that you keep the other three charter books locked in your safe until we know just how much they are worth.”

“That sounds like a good idea”, Lord Hardham said. 

I noted how his younger son was visibly sweating. So he should have been.

֍

The locomotive at the front of our train let out a shrill whistle as it thundered along the line back to London. Had I not had the foresight to pack my gag into John's medical bag – thank the Lord that we were not the sort of country with those bumptious officials who insisted on checking people's things or we would have had some explaining to do! - and contrived to lift my legs even further as John pounded away inside of me.

“Harder, eh?” he snarled. “And teasing me about thrusting like that! I shall give you some hard thrusting!”

He was definitely giving me something, and the clickable cock-ring was already down to its last notch as I fought against my own body which was straining for release. The bastard flicked each of my nipples in turn which was just mean – he knew how sensitive they were – but I could hold out for a while yet.

“God but I love you!”

His saying those few words did it. A final click and the ring fell away to the floor as I came violently. It really was yet another example of that weird saying that pleasure and pain are a lot closer than people think, for while parts of me felt so sore than not even all the unguent in the world (or at least in John's bag) could have made me feel less pain, yet I was soaring in Heaven and the man I loved erupted inside me with a breathless moan of utter ecstasy.

“You made me come by words alone”, I gasped as I recovered my breath and John recovered the cock-ring (we had nearly lost one that time coming back from Kent). “Amazing.”

“True”, he grinned. “I am indeed amazing.”

I would let him have that one. For now.

֍

Shortly after our return we had two callers at 221B. They stayed until it was dark outside then left quickly. Thankfully it was a relatively warm night considering we were in the second half of November, so I was justified in leaving the window open just a crack. John and I sat in our room in the darkness – and we were not alone. 

We did not have to wait long. Barely ten minutes after the two men had departed, a shadow appeared at the window which was then carefully and noiselessly lifted up. A figure of a man clambered through and made immediately for our bookshelf. I grinned and reached over to turn on the light.

“Hullo Mr. Hardham.”

Mr. Carter Hardham took one look at me and raced for the window, only for the formidable bulk of Sergeant Baldur to emerge from behind the curtain. Our robber yelped in fear and backed away only to realize that I was right behind him.

“Take a seat, sir”, I smiled. “This will not take long. _Either way.”_

He looked fearfully at me but sank down onto a chair,

“I know all about Lord Bradwold using your financial foolishness to force you into doing this”, I said firmly. “Doubtless this has been going on for some time and he enjoyed merely having a hold over someone in the enemy camp as he saw it, even after your brother removed any real chance of your inheriting the title. But when those charters came up you saw what you thought was an opportunity. You noted down some details in them and passed them onto your paymaster.”

“Lord Bradwold was horrified by your discovery and ordered you to destroy the evidence that would have shown his ancestors to be less King Alfred's loyal servants and more the traitors who were nearly responsible for the destruction of Wessex and thereby England. I have to tell you that you severely underestimated your own father who frustrated your schemes by sending me the most incriminating charter and then luring you into an attempt to steal what you thought was the full set. I am sure from his actions that he knew which was your 'loyalties' lay, which was why he brought me in on the case. The official channels like the sergeant here can be effective but... sometimes hurtful.”

Mr. Hardham trembled and looked around desperately for any chance of escape. There was none.

“On the table before you is a signed confession which states that Lord Bradwold paid you to do this”, I said gesturing to where John had switched on the lamp. “You do of course have the option of going with the sergeant and facing the full force of the law, then disinheritance by your family followed by complete and utter social ruin. If however you admit your role and sign, I shall give you twenty-four hours to make whatever arrangements you may wish before that and proof of the payments made to you by Lord Bradwold are presented to the authorities. _And_ the newspapers.”

He stared dully at me but nodded, and signed without even reading the papers before him. Then he staggered from the room and was gone.

“I have someone watching him just in case”, I told John reassuringly. “And we must thank our actor friends from earlier for making him think we had both gone out – although what two gentlemen of quality would be doing walking around London at this time of night I have no idea.”

֍

_Postscriptum: Mr. Carter Hardham duly fled the country that same day, and it was Lord Bradwold who faced social ruin when his attempt to destroy a neighbour was splattered all over the papers. The Thelston Charters were indeed certified as genuine and made a major contribution to our understanding of Anglo-Saxon history – especially in that politicians back then were just as economical with the truth as they still are today!_

֍


End file.
